


Defending Bellamy

by ap_marvel



Category: Defending Jacob (Inspired), The 100 (TV)
Genre: (will add future tags), Alternate Universe - Small Town, Angst, Bellarke AU Week, F/M, Fluffy-ish, Unresolved Tension, reference to PTSD, reference to suicide, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ap_marvel/pseuds/ap_marvel
Summary: Clarke Griffin returned to the small town of Arkadia following the death of her mother. It's been a year since and the familiar faces of her past still seem to haunt her. Following the anniversary of the accident that caused her father's coma, and Aurora Blake's death, it's revealed that there is a new killer in town.And all eyes are on Bellamy Blake.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41





	1. Falling For You Was My Mistake

“i was yours before i knew, and you have always been mine too.” ― _Lang Leav_

***

Clarke Griffin had gone through at least two bottles of beer before she noticed the dark-haired figure, two stools down, watching her. She wasn’t sure if he was watching her actually, she hadn’t even thought to glance over. She was to busy wallowing in her own sorrow to bother with strangers – no, he wasn’t a stranger, she realized. Nobody could be in this god forsakenly small town.

She took another long sip before setting the cool glass against her warm cheek. It wouldn’t be long now until she would be out of her mind drunk. Until there was nothing to feel and nothing to think. And yet, with every sip it felt like the burden of this day only fell heavier on her.

“Long day, princess?” He asked gruffly.

She turned her tired eyes towards the source of the sound to see a cocky, half-drunk Bellamy Blake.

Clarke should’ve known he’d be here. Of course, he would. He shared the burden that fell on this day.

He looked down at her with a raised brow and she wondered when they had returned to this part of their relationship. She set down her finished beer. Instead of firing back at him as she normally would’ve done all those years ago, she responded softly, “Isn’t it always?”

He stared at her for a moment before downing the rest of his bourbon. He stood up and made his way to the seat beside her, his knees brushing against her seat as he ordered two more drinks. His eyes still on her. If Clarke wasn’t so tipsy, she would’ve said he was being nice.

Bellamy Blake. Being nice to _her_. She must’ve been thinking of another time.

There was a long silence. She stared down at her drink as she waited it out. Waited him out.

He leaned in close enough for her to smell that same familiar cologne and the bourbon on his breath. “What are you doing here, Clarke?”

She turned on her stool, her knees knocking against his gently. She rested her cheek against her cheek, her elbow on the bar top.

“Enjoying a drink.” She replied lightly, her words feeling much flirtier than she expected. She took the drink he ordered for her and raised it slightly before downing several gulps. “Why are you talking to me, Blake?”

Her tone was disapproving, and he seemed to take it the wrong way.

He let out a breath, shaking his head as he turned away. “Still think you’re better than everybody else, huh? You know you haven’t changed since you left.”

“Yeah,” she agreed quietly. Her shoulders slumped at his words and under the weight of the ones on her tongue. “You did though. You didn’t hate me this much when I left.”

There was a long pause. For a moment she thought she had rendered him speechless. But he was quick to correct her.

“That’s not true.”

Clarke looked up at him and it felt like she was seeing him in a new light. His features which were once contorted with irritation and sorrow had shifted into something softer. His dark brown eyes looking at her with warmth, but they were torn with loneliness.

This was the Bellamy Blake she had left behind.

“I never hated you, Clarke,” he said candidly. “I hated that you left.”

She swallowed. Her mouth feeling suddenly dry as she sobered with his words.

He seemed to be feeling the same as he tore his gaze from hers. “Left me,” he added quietly before taking a long swig of his beer.

Clarke seemed to be left speechless at his words. There was a history between them, an unlikely friendship that had developed during high school when... When they had both felt loss. It had become a crutch for Clarke during the darkest times of her life and Bellamy had always been her support system. Looking back, she thought she’d been the same for him, to vent and to laugh and to get high. But after they had gone their separate ways after graduation, he was across the globe and she was in New York. The differences in their schedules and their many commitments meant they barely spoke despite all her efforts. And all they had been, disappeared in a blink.

She thought about his words, feeling them echo through her.

_Left me._

He said it like it was a choice. Like what they had been could’ve been saved if she had risked giving up on getting into medical school. Like he hadn’t left her too.

“And if I hadn’t left. If I stayed, where would you have been?”

He leaned back, his expression dark. “That’s not fair.”

“Yeah,” she scoffed. Feeling a little more heated as her thoughts began to order themselves. “It’s only fair when it’s my fault. Right?”

He said nothing. Which seemed to only tear her wounds deeper.

She shouldn’t have come here. She should’ve known that Dropship was haunted with people from her past, but she didn’t have much choice. Weather’s was no better. Jaha would likely have been there, drinking his fucking sorrows away and she didn't have the strength to see his face. Not today.

Clarke bit her lip, furrowing her brows as she gathered her shit and turned to leave. Her voice barely audible as she excused herself. “I need some air.”

She walked outside, letting out a long sigh as the chilly air bit at her skin. She pulled her jacket on closer, before pulling out a cigarette and her lighter. She had quit a few years back when she had left for New York, but it seemed returning to Arkadia had opened up bad habits again. She leaned back against the wall near the entrance, lighting her cigarette and taking a few puffs as she looked up at the dark sky.

She closed her eyes, taking in the cold and letting it wash over her. She hoped that with each breath she would find some semblance of peace, instead she felt ridiculously tired of this night and the burden that came with it.

The day her dad had gotten into the accident, the day he went into a coma and never woke up. The day her life went to shit. The day Bellamy’s mom had died.

She let out a shaky sigh and opened her eyes to blink back the tears.

“You got another one?”

She turned to see him looking somewhat apologetic as he stood several feet away from her. His breath visible in the air.

She fumbled around before handing him one, lighting it for him before returning to her silence.

“Thanks.”

She nodded, tapping off the excess ash as she folded her arms over her chest.

He took a long inhale before coughing. “God, they’re still as bad as I remember.”

She bit her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

It reminded her of the first time they shared a cigarette behind the bleachers. She had stolen it from her mom and used Bellamy’s lighter to light it. They had both coughed so much, laughing at how awful it felt. They wondered how people became addicted. It wasn’t long after that it became their ritual to sneak behind the bleachers to talk and laugh, under the guise of smoking.

“Why’d you ever smoke them?”

He looked over at her for a moment before returning his gaze to the sidewalk, inhaling and exhaling gray smoke without coughing as much, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I needed an excuse to spend time with you, didn’t I?”

There was a silence as she digested his words. She wasn’t sure if he was talking about the past or now. She wasn’t sure if this was the sweet, loyal Bellamy she had left behind or if this was the Bellamy who had endured war to support his sister, bitter and melancholy.

He shifted the weight between his feet before clearing his throat. “Are you coming back inside?”

Clarke dropped her finished cigarette and pressed out its embers, giving her a short amount of time to think before she answered.

“I… I think I’m gonna head home.”

He barely gave her a nod before he started to head back inside. She pushed herself off the wall and headed towards the car that was parked near the entrance, unlocking it and opening the door to get inside. She paused, staring at his retreating back and his dark, inky curls.

“Bellamy,” she called. He turned around at his name. “I, uh, still have your stash… If you wanted to smoke something better.”

***

They were sitting on the floor of her grand living room, passing the spliff between them until they were nothing but a laughing mess. They were recalling old times like nothing had changed, never daring to change the topic to their present – no, the present was far too heavy and real to want to dive into. So, they reminisced on anything and everything from elementary to high school, laughing away the darkness of the night. For a moment it felt like they were simple teenagers again. And it ached to know that they weren’t.

Clarke couldn’t tell if Bellamy’s jokes were genuinely funny or not, under the haze of her mind it seemed like he knew exactly how to make her laugh. She was clutching her stomach and wiping away tears at one point as he smiled at her. He didn’t seem to be as affected by the weed as her, or nearly as drunk either.

If she wasn’t so high, she would’ve felt guilty. She was meant to be mourning the loss of the most important figure of her life, but she supposed in some twisted way she was. Clarke had never been good at confronting her emotions and getting drunk and stupid high was just an easier outlet than crying her heart out like she usually did on this cruel day. And Bellamy… He was usually despondent on this day, never came into school on this day and now as a grown man she could see that he was dealing it better than she imagined. He had been exposed to so much trauma in his lifetime, she wondered if it had become numb to him.

When her raucous laughter had died down, she realized that he was still staring at her. But in a way that felt far more intimate than she had expected from him.

He had been nothing but blank glances and silence when she had returned to Arkadia last year to accept a position as a doctor. If she had it any other way she wouldn’t have returned to this town, but if there was one thing about this place it was that you could never truly leave it behind. Octavia had been the one to break the news of Bellamy’s discharge from the army and she had tried to speak with him. And nothing. One entire year had gone by and not a word from him.

Now he was sitting beside her in her empty house, his dark brown eyes holding her blue ones. There was a conflict within him, she knew that. But how he was looking at her from under those curls, it was like he was telling her how to set him free.

She leaned in close, her lips against the shell of his ear as she whispered, “Let’s go upstairs.”

“I – I don’t,” he fumbled for words. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, princess.”

She furrowed her brows at his refusal, feeling dejected. “I thought… Don’t you want me?”

“You’re drunk and really fucking high,” he explained delicately. “I don’t want you to go regretting anything.”

She pressed her hand against his chest and leaned close enough to see the freckles scattered across his bronze skin. She felt her heart flutter when his dark eyes were on her lips. “I won’t,” she promised.

He shook his head and pried her hand off of him. “It’s not up for debate.”

She sighed before dropping back into her spot beside him. Her head resting against his shoulder as she closed eyes. “Okay,” she whispered.

Clarke felt herself slip into an eternal darkness, barely aware of her surrounding as she drifted into sleep. It was only when she felt arms snake beneath her knees and back that she realized that she was being moved. She shifted against the strong arms that held, her head resting on his chest as he walked up the stairs. She felt a sigh escape her lips as he tucked her into her bed, the cool duvet waking her in time to see his dark silhouette begin to walk away.

She darted her hand out far enough that they grazed his and she held onto him. He turned and she saw his face was full of hurt even under the cover of night.

“Stay,” she whispered.

He furrowed his brows, his voice low. “Clarke, I – ”

“Please…” Her voice was flooded with anxiety. “I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”

Bellamy laid down beside her quietly and very much reluctantly. He was still, unmoving until she crawled into his arms which he wrapped around her lightly to hold her.

They were nothing to each other. They had barely exchanged glances let alone beds. And yet, it was tender being in him arms, like she had found the safety she had sought all those years and so familiar to be sharing space with him.

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

If it were anyone else, she was sure he would’ve taken it the wrong way, but she understood. It wasn’t the same, she knew that. But she hoped he saw it for what it was.

He brushed her hair absent-mindedly with his fingers, his grip tightening on her for a moment as he closed his eyes, taking in her sympathy. His voice was strained as responded. “Yeah. Sorry about your dad.”

“Yeah,” she echoed.

She wasn’t sure how long she slept in his arms, only that it was comforting in a way that she hadn’t felt in years. She didn’t open her eyes when he shifted out of her reach and got out of her bed to leave. She said nothing when the floorboards creaked under his weight as he walked to her side of the bed. She didn’t even move when his warm lips brushed against her forehead. But when she heard the sound of her door closing behind him, she didn’t stop the tears from spilling down her cheek.


	2. How Can I Escape You If You're In My Head

“the suffering of a loved one was in many ways worse than ones’ one suffering because it left one feeling so very helpless.” ― _Mary Balogh_

***

Clarke groaned as she woke up. Her eyes were half-closed as she fumbled for her phone, which was surprisingly charging and set neatly on her bedside table. She didn’t remember putting it there. She shook the thought away and glanced at the time before letting out a sigh and slumping back into her bed. It was six am, which meant she was going to have to start her day soon if she didn’t want to be late.

She knew it was wrong to be have been drunk and smoked pot the night before her shift. She hated the haziness of it all and the thumping headache she had. She knew that she could lose her medical license, the very one she had strived so hard to get. So why didn’t she feel as guilty as she should be?

She rolled onto her side, pushing away her dull blonde strands. A strange thought crossed her mind as she stared at the imprint of a figure on the pillow beside her. She stretched a hand and traced it; goosebumps ran across her forearms as she remembered his smile.

It wasn’t a dream.

Clarke only felt herself frown as she began to piece back the night they shared. It almost didn’t feel real. She wondered if he remembered it at all, if he would even acknowledged what had happened. Maybe it was for the best to brush it all aside. They were still the same people they were before and last night was just a moment of weakness.

She got up, rubbing her eyes as she slipped on her clothes, wondering whether her day would be any more eventful than any other usual shift. She had a total of twenty patients to see, ranging from simple coughs to broken bones. When she had graduated from medical school, she expected it all to be… Exciting. And it could’ve been, if she hadn’t moved back. But she had to.

She grabbed her phone and unlocked it, scrolling through her messages. Wells had texted her a couple days before, asking if she was still available for lunch on Wednesday and she’d been so caught up, she’d forgotten to send him a reply. But there was a more recent text from the night before which asked if she wanted to talk. She ignored the recent message, not wanting to think about it anymore and quickly confirmed the lunch, inputting it into her calendar.

Everything was complicated in this town for Clarke. That included Wells. He had tried to give her support when… When it had all happened. It wasn’t his fault, but Clarke couldn’t stop the resentment she felt towards his father infect their friendship. He was kind and a good friend, when they were friends. Even when she wasn’t the nicest friend back.

It was only last week that he had come back to town, after taking up the position of Deputy Mayor, that she had realized that the way she had treated him wasn’t right. She took it on herself to make sure that she righted her wrongs. Wells had accepted her apology and welcomed her back with open arms. But that didn’t change the fact that she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him about what had happened to her dad. Not to him.

Arkadia may have been a friendly small town in Virginia. But it was safe to say the only real friend Clarke had was the son of the man that had put her dad into a coma and, the son of Aurora Blake’s killer.

There was one more text. An unknown number.

_I’m sorry. I have to do this. [02:06]_

She looked up in thought before shrugging it off. They must’ve had the wrong number, she thought.

She sighed and opened up the blinds, cringing at the sudden intensity of gloomy light. When she regained her sight, she saw the cloudy sky and the pattering of rain against the concrete.

Great. This day was going to be as shitty as she felt.

***

It had been a few minutes since she had left the practice, leaving Jackson to lock up. He had been, thankfully, quiet about the obvious signs of her hangover despite how many eyedrops she used and how much water she drank. She knew he was fully aware of what yesterday meant to her and she was glad that he hadn’t brought it up, let alone question whether she was even in the position to work that morning. Which she had managed to do, even with a pounding headache. A few colds, a few shots but nothing serious.

She walked around the practice, towards the carpark at the back. She unlocked her car, tossed her purse to the passenger seat and got in, resting her head against the wheel with a sigh. It had been a goddamn long day and she was more than happy to slip into bed and sleep the rest of the night off.

She let out a breath and started the car.

There was a still a light patter of rain, illuminated by her headlights and the orange glow of streetlights. The occasional car drove past, waving as they did which she would wave back to with a tired tight-lipped smile.

People on this side of town, the predominantly wealthier side of town seemed to be nicer, but Clarke knew better. They wore pretty smiles to hide their shitty lives, just like she did, just like she thought everyone did. Most of the people she had met on the south side of town were caring and generous despite being dealt significantly shittier cards in life. People like Aurora Blake.

She let out a breath, watching the thoughts disappear into the cold air.

God, she needed a smoke.

Clarke put the cigarette between her lips when she heard her phone ring. She answered it with a button on the steering wheel as she lit the end and took a puff. Never taking her eyes off the road.

_“Clarke?”_

She straightened at the sound of Octavia’s voice. They normally exchanged a few texts, nothing more. It must’ve been important for her to be calling.

“Octavia. Hey, what’s – ” She was interrupted by the sound of children crying in the background. There was a muffle as she heard Octavia chastise her daughters.

_“I – We need your help.”_

She furrowed her brows in worry. “What’s going on?”

 _“Bell’s hurt,”_ she explained hysterically. Her voice thick with emotion. _“He came home with blood everywhere and he won’t tell me what happened and it’s bad Clarke. It’s really fucking bad.”_

She got up from her seat, her mind running a million miles. She was with him last night and he seemed to be okay when he left. Did he get into a fight with somebody? And if so, who was the other guy who managed to injure Bellamy Blake?

“Where is he now?”

 _“He’s with me, lying down in his room.”_ Octavia let out a shaky breath. _“I’m scared, Clarke.”_

“It’s okay, Octavia.” She swallowed, biting the inside of her cheek. “I’ll take care of it.”

 _“We…”_ She started nervously. _“He doesn’t have insurance and we can’t afford –_ ”

Clarke closed her eyes at the sound of her struggling to explain. Reassurance spilling from her mouth easily. “I’ll take care of it.”

 _“Thank you,”_ she said breathlessly. _“Thank you, Clarke.”_

***

Clarke felt nostalgia overwhelm her as she pulled onto the street, the smaller and considerably beaten down houses only reminding her how different this side of town was. She recognized the Blake’s house and parked in the empty spot behind the Honda which she knew was Octavia’s.

She killed the engine before exiting the car, heading to the trunk to grab her medical bag. She slammed the trunk closed before locking her car, her steps hurried as she headed towards the red door. It must’ve been loud as the door opened before she managed to knock on it, revealing a tear-stained but composed Octavia, dressed in an oversized jumper, her dark locks frizzed with anxiety.

“Where is he?” Clarke asked calmly.

Octavia wordlessly let her in. She led her through the hallway, passing the dimmed living room and cramped kitchen, the familiar smell of their home hitting her as they walked. They finally stopped in front of the smallest bedroom, the door firmly closed in front of Lincoln, head hung low.

Lincoln turned to Octavia with a sigh, the bags under his eyes obvious. “He still won’t come out.”

Octavia clenched her jaw; her frustration apparent as she placed a hand on his large arm. “Stay with the girls.”

He gave a quick nod before glancing over Clarke. They had never been properly introduced, but Clarke was sure that was the wrong time for that. She watched as he walked away, closing the door behind him as he entered what she assumed was their daughters’ room.

Clarke saw Octavia’s hesitation as she stood in front of Bellamy’s door. She turned to her, being careful with her words. “I think this’ll be easier if it’s just one of us.”

Octavia held her gaze, doubting her words but as the seconds passed it became clear that she was right. Bellamy had locked himself in for whatever reason and refused to seek help, and Clarke was no doubt more stubborn than him – if anyone could get him to open up, it was her.

“Okay.” Octavia turned to leave but stopped to turn back to Clarke. “I don’t need to know what happened, that’s not my business. But if he’s in trouble…”

“I’ll try my best,” Clarke offered.

That seemed to be enough satisfy Octavia as she walked away, going into girl’s bedroom to join Lincoln.

She shifted the weight between her feet, wetting her dry lips before she rapped her knuckles on the door. “Bellamy?” Her voice was much softer than she had anticipated. “It’s Clarke.”

There was a long silence. It seemed to drown her as she stared at the chipped white paint of his door.

She cleared her throat, readjusting her grip on her bag. “I’m here as a doctor, not a… Friend. I’m here for you.”

More silence.

“Octavia is really worried about you. I know how much you mean to each other; she just wants to make sure you’re okay. You don’t need to explain anything. You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.” She closed her eyes and let out a breath as she deliberated her next words. “You can trust me, Bellamy.”

She hung her head in wait, thinking through all the other possible ways she could try and encourage him to open the door. She could tell him that she was willing to wait all night until he opened the door, and she would. But she wouldn’t need to, there was a shuffle before she heard the deadbolt slide open and the door creak open.

Clarke felt relief turn into anticipation as she pushed the door open to walk in.

She wasn’t sure what to expect. What she remembered to have been a dark-green walled, clothes-strewn floor and messy room of a teenager was now a stark white, and extremely neat room. It only reminded her of how long he had served and despite being discharged he hadn't shed any of the disciplines that came with his training. It was pristine, almost as if it hadn’t been lived in. If it wasn’t for the blood-stained carpet, he was sitting on.

Bellamy Blake was now a bruised and battered shell of a man, his face was lined with scratches, blood trailing down his tanned skin and his left arm had a heavy gash across it. He was still wearing the same clothes he had been the night before, except now they were dirtied, distressed with tears and scratches. His eyes were red-rimmed, the bags under his eyes prominent and the expression on his face. It broke Clarke’s heart to see him like this. He was so desperately tired and still he was so prepared to keep fighting, to wear his brave face.

Clarke instinctively kneeled beside him, opening up her bag and putting on her gloves. She gestured towards his arm. “May I?”

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look at her, but he nodded stiffly.

She check all his vitals, before she examined the wound, making sure that it wasn’t bone-deep or hitting any major vessels before she lifted it up and applied pressure to slow the bleeding. She watched the red bloom through the gauze and switched it to another clean gauze. She continued to do that, feeling herself concentrate as she cleaned out the wound, making sure there was no dirt in the wound or anything foreign.

“Any allergies I should know about?”

He shook his head.

“Have you taken anything?”

Bellamy locked his dark eyes with hers, the muscle in his jaw feathering at her question.

She swallowed, holding his gaze. “I’m giving you local anesthetic for the stitches. It could react with any medication. It’s standard procedure to ask.”

“I haven’t taken anything,” he answered quietly. He turned his attention back to the floor.

Clarke injected him and when he winced, she felt herself rub his skin with her gloved thumb. She caught herself and shook it off as she prepared her suture kit. She got to neatly stitching the wound together before wrapping it in gauze.

She turned her attention to his face. Slices of red through his freckles, the skin around them pink. They were skin-surface scratches, so she didn’t have to do much other than clean them and put some antibiotic cream on them to prevent the risk of injection. Though there was a deeper one near his hairline that would need a skin-closure strip.

When she was cleaning out his final wound, she decided that it was time to break the silence.

“They give you basic training in first aid in the Army… The arm needed stitches so I can I understand that but, you didn’t even ice your bruises.”

He said nothing as she expected so she continued, finishing his wound with a strip. She gave him space as she took off her gloves.

“You can talk to me Bellamy. If there’s something going on – ”

“Leave,” he whispered. “Just… Leave.”

There was a pain to his words, so profound that it cracked his voice. What rocked her to her core were his eyes. They were raw with grief, and she wondered how he managed to hold himself together when he looked like that. Like he had seen the horrors of this world, and like he was trying to save her from it all.

So, she did. She knew shouldn’t have, but she did. And Clarke would live to regret doing so, until her very last breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it makes no sense... yet.


	3. I Know I'll Be Alright But I'm Not Tonight

"no one ever told me that grief felt so like fear." - _C.S. Lewis_

***

The past few days had been as dreary as they ever could be. Clarke awoke to grey skies and the subtle creaks of her childhood home; it took an enormous amount of effort to get up and get ready for work. Work itself had been distracting, in that it managed to keep her mind off of Bellamy and his injuries. But despite how much paperwork it gave her, both within the practice and her home, it didn’t stop her thoughts running off into the south side of town and the images of his arm slice open.

Clarke had called Octavia to make sure that Bellamy was taking care of the stitches and icing the bruises, keeping himself well when she couldn’t be there to check. She wanted to be there. She should’ve been there, but she couldn’t bring herself to go there – to face him. She was afraid of what he would say. Afraid that he would tell her to leave again and mean it just as much as he had last time.

She had hurt him by leaving before and maybe she was hurting by not being there but… Something within Clarke told her that Bellamy Blake was far better off without her. That in some way what had happened to him was _because_ of her.

Clarke shook off her thoughts and picked up her phone, waiting to see if there were any messages even though she would’ve heard the notification.

Nothing.

Clarke went to her messages anyway and scrolled through what she had texted to Wells. It wasn’t like him to be late and not message her, much less forget that they were supposed to meet up for lunch.

_Are you on your way yet? [12:15]_

_I thought I was the tardy one. [12:53]_

_Did something come up? [1:09]_

_Wells? [1:09]_

She knew she shouldn’t be worried. There were too many obvious excuses; he was caught up in a meeting, a scheduling conflict, his phone had died, or he was stuck in traffic and on his way. Sometimes he would drive into town the night before and stay in the usually vacant but immaculate house she passed every day on her drive to work, but he wasn’t there either. So why did her heart continue to sink into her stomach?

She went to her contacts and scrolled through. There was no point in calling Wells, he hadn’t answered the first two times so there was no point trying again. Instead, she continued scrolling until she reached a name she hadn’t looked at in a long time.

Marcus Kane. Mayor of Arkadia.

Her thumb hovered over the green button.

He was her father’s best friend and when Jaha had stepped down as Mayor when the accident had happened, he was quickly promoted. It didn’t take long before Clarke’s mom was finding comfort in another man’s arms, Kane’s arms. He had tried to continue being the uncle-like figure he had been when she was growing up, but she had changed. She was angry, desperately trying not to grieve the sudden loss of her dad and she was beginning to realize that her mother was a stranger to her.

Clarke got accepted into an accelerated, seven-year combined track in New York for medicine. She left as soon as she graduated. No goodbyes. It was easier that way, and her mom was too high on pills to notice.

It wasn’t long after her mom’s drug addiction and her subsequent overdose that Marcus disappeared. Vanished from Clarke’s life and in a way from her mother’s life too. It was a scandal that kept the town talking for too long and Marcus had denied ever being in any relationship with the Griffins.

So, Clarke shouldn’t have called him. He didn’t care about her family, he cared about his job. But he was Mayor, he would know where his Deputy Mayor would be. Right?

She held the phone over her ear, her capped pen tapping against the desk as she waited with bated breath. The ringing continued and for a moment she thought he had picked up but instead it went to voicemail.

Clarke let out a breath, closing her eyes as she prepared her polite voice.

_“You’ve reached the voicemail of Marcus Kane, Mayor of Arkadia. I’m currently either away from my desk or on the other line. Please leave your name, number, and a short message after the beep, and I’ll be sure to get back to you as soon as I’m available.”_

There was a beep.

“Hi, Marcus. It’s Clarke… Griffin. I was supposed to meet with Wells this afternoon, he hasn’t turned up or been in contact – I’m sure it’s not anything serious but… I’m still worried. I just, I wanted to know if he’s in his office or caught up in a meeting or something.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, uh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Thanks.”

Her head feel into her hands, her elbows leaning on her desk as she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting out a frustrated sigh.

There was a knock on the door. “Clarke?”

She sat up straighter, putting her phone down. “Yeah, come in.”

Jackson opened the door, his head popping inside her office. “Your two o’clock is here.”

Clarke nodded, fumbling with the paperwork on her desk to prepare for her patient. “Yeah, send them through.”

He disappeared and a few moments later she heard the sound of crutches. She got up and opened the door to help her patient through, before returning to her own seat.

“Hey, Raven.”

“Doc,” Raven greeted monotonously.

“What can I do for you today?”

***

Clarke felt sick.

It had been a long day at work. She had a lot of administrative work to finish up and had to attend a mandatory meeting that went over its one-hour slot. Her patients were doing as good as any other day, kids needed vaccines and adults needed medication. Nothing new.

So why couldn’t she sleep?

The rain threw itself against the window. The force causing the glass to rattle.

She turned onto her side; her weight pressed into her shoulder. There was a heavy feeling in her gut. Some sort of stomach bug, maybe? No, the closest she could describe it to was homesick. But she was in her childhood home, the very one that had been left to her in her mother’s will, the only home she ever had. So why was she feeling like this?

A flash of white lit up the room.

Clarke could see it again, the streaks of red and blue lighting up the front door. The heavy-hearted knocks that followed. The hushed voices of officers. The agonizing scream that her mother let out as she fell onto their polished wooden floor.

She needed to run.

Clarke closed her eyes, trying to slow her breathing. The thunder splintering her concentration as she tried to calm herself to no avail. Her breaths were still erratic, desperately clawing their way out of her lungs.

Why couldn’t it just be quiet for just a fucking second?

She threw off the duvet and got up frantically. She barely registered her surroundings as she made her way blindly down the stairs, pulling on her running shoes before opening the front door.

She thought the rain was loud through the barriers of her bedroom walls, the noise couldn’t even compare as she stood there watching it.

A billow of fresh air met her.

It was euphoric.

Clarke took two steps outside, her eyes on the inky black sky – watching the rain slice through the air onto her. Even as the rain pattered down on her clothes, damping her hair – there was something freeing in the darkness. Something… Violently peaceful.

A hysterical grin overtook her features as she started to run. No voices, no faces to haunt her. No judgement from the past. Her feet pounded against the wet concrete as rain mingled with tears. She passed the orange tinted streetlights, counting them as if it were a game.

Another flash of lightning. Five seconds passed before the familiar crack of thunder followed.

She didn’t know where she was going at first, her feet taking lead as she crossed streets recklessly. It was only when her heart was pounding out her chest, her skull filling with pressure that she came to a stop.

She had passed into the halfway point between the two sides of town.

Clarke felt a tired smile reach her lips as she read the sign on the locked gate.

POLIS FOREST

There was a secret trail she and Wells used to take as kids. It weaved through the main trail before splintering off at the second birch tree, after marking every four trees to find a hideout place they could visit – they found a beautiful willow tree. Beneath its shelter was a boulder they would sit on. They used to play silly games, who could climb it the fastest, jump the furthest off of it. Time passed and they got older. Playing games turned into talking about anything and everything. It was nice.

Until her dad…

After she and Bellamy had become acquaintances waiting outside the counsellor’s office, they decided to ditch. She had taken him down the trail. They didn’t talk much, if anything it was mostly silence. But there was something comforting in his presence, a warmness despite his usually cool demeanor. An understanding. Being with him was more beneficial than any counsellor meeting.

She hopped the gate, feeling the mud cling to her running shoes as she started walking down the main trail. The trees offered some shelter from the rain, though it did little to help her drenched clothes.

It was dark, darker than she realized as she kept making her way through.

Maybe she should turn back…

There were sounds of insects, a few birds and the occasional snap of a twig beneath her foot. But she couldn’t stop. There was something alluring about the forest this early in the morning.

She continued blindly, before finally finding the second birch tree. Or was this the third?

She splintered off the main trail and began to feel each bark of tree as she moved. Searching for the little crosses that marked the path. Doubt began to drown as she searched, her eyes blinking wildly as she tried to see what she was doing.

She stopped, knowing she had gone too far without feeling any indication of the trail.

What the fuck was she doing?

Clarke reached out again and searched the bark of the tree nearest to her, begging to find the etch of a cross. Panic began to set in. She was in the forest, lost, alone, in the dark, with no means of communication.

It would be hours before someone would know she was missing, let alone find her. 

The crooked mark of a cross beneath her fingertips.

Relief.

She took a step forward. Her shoe pressed into something wet. She would’ve mistaken it for mud, but it was raised several inches above ground. She pulled back her foot instinctively, a sense of dread washing through her.

Clarke froze, holding her breath as she stared at the darkness of the forest floor.

She slowly kneeled down, slowly reaching out with her trembling fingers.

Wet.

A flash of light.

She barely caught the red stain on her fingertips. But she couldn’t miss the still figure beside her. 

Clarke screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while i know but i haven't written anything in too long. also if this chapter is shit it's because it's a first draft (i know i committed a cardinal sin) but i'm so out of it and bored and feeling like i'm slowly losing my mind so enjoy the fruits of my pain.


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